22 Snags
by Riversound
Summary: Deep questions, Catch 22, and all the things Gilbert will likely never say.


-1-

What is sanity?

It seems a rather deep question, which is why Gilbert likes it. He likes deep questions, because they prove that he has 'class.' Roddy likes to argue that point, but ha! Gilbert is awesome, much more awesome than the ice princess, and anything that goes against what Specs says just proves it further.

So Gilbert collects deep questions and waits for someday when he can just spring them all on stupid Roddy and watch him wonder how even with four eyes he had somehow missed and overlooked Gilbert's awesomeness all along, and maybe, just maybemaybemaybe, see something else, something that isn't quite as obvious as his awesomeness but he isn't exactly great at hiding either, so Roddy must be able to see it, because if he can't he's the thickest skull on Earth, though that might just be true, and_ ohmygod how long can one sentence go on?_

But whether Roddy notices that other Something or not, Gilbert still collects deep questions, and he thinks about them too. That is why he is on the web and sifting through the many sources of deep questions that lay at his fingertips.

So, what is sanity?

Sanity is relative, he decides, because nuts never actually think they're nuts. They think that they're the sane ones, and that everyone else is a nut, when actually their own heads could be split open and munched on for a source of protein.

Wait. Eew.

But anyway, disregarding the mental images of smashing open a walnut head and having a snack, sanity is relative and, when looked at like that, doesn't exist. Except for Gilbert, because he's totally sane. Totally. And Roddy is a nut.

Even if Gilbert doesn't want to eat his head.

-2-

What makes a good friend?

Gilbert snickers. He could give the generic answer- should, really- but can't, because for him friendship isn't completely about listening and having things in common. He gets that from Francis and Antonio, sure, 'cause they're great guys that see his awesomeness and share his ...interests, but Roddy is also his friend, and just Gilbert's many nicknames for him should be enough to convey that he's not really the listening-and-sympathising type. Actually, he's a bit of an ass, so the typical word bank for friend is cheerfully tossed out the window where Gilbird, delighted to have a game to play, catches it and flies off. Gilbert fondly watches the little speck of yellow flutter rapidly away, burdened by obscure words like 'empathy,' 'compassion,' and 'sensitive,' words of a style that he only ever hears coming from Specs's stupid aristocratic mouth, usually accompanied by an annoyed 'Gilbert, what on earth do you think you're doing,' or something else similarly condescending.

….Whoa. 'Condescending.' Roddy must be rubbing off on him.

Even so, it's a good word for Specs. So is 'irritable,' and 'prissy,' and 'stuffy,' and 'stiff.'

There are other words that Gilbert thinks too, much more positive, but he keeps most of those thoughts out of the way. They have to do with the 'Something.' There is one, though, that he can't keep from mind.

Pretty. The bastard is pretty.

-3-

What makes you, you?

Gilbert wants to scoff at that one. His awesomeness. His status as Prussia (though the dissolution may argue that point). His albinism, which is totally BA. His history. Fritz's influence. The war, and the wall that had come with it. His brother. His brother's past self, of which he has no memory, the one who was so much colder, who had lasted only long enough to leave a single broken heart behind-

Gilbert shakes his head. Holy Rome and Luddy are different people, because if Ludwig remembers nothing, then they are separate, right? And besides, Ludwig and Feli have reunited, even if Feli hasn't made the connection between his childhood and his present, and the way things look, it won't be long before something comes of their relationship.

What makes you, you?

The question suddenly disturbs him. Yes, Holy Rome may have been colder, but Germany's resemblance to him, and the times when he turns to Prussia and just gives him a_ look_, one that drags him back to that battlefield where the sky is bleeding and the ground runs red and Francis is the enemy and he stands over the body of a child and _Gilbert is choking and he can't breathe_- then Gilbert will swear that he isn't looking into the eyes of Luddy, his loveable little brother, but Holy Rome, who may have been loveable, but who certainly was not the same.

What makes Ludwig, Ludwig?

His stubbornness when it comes to order. Caring about order at all. His temper. His love for his dogs. The oblivious way he looks at Feli, when he blushes and stumbles over his words, and Feli just smiles because stupid Luddy can't see what's right in front of him. The way that Luddy is just oblivious about everything regarding Feli, actually, because it makes Gilbert sick sometimes to see the sweetness between them that his idiot brother somehow, inexplicably, can't.

What makes Roddy, Roddy?

The way he looks at Gilbert sometimes, when his words are cutting but Gilbert can feel the fondness behind them. The way that he goes about all his business, stupid stuff like baking and sweeping and patching clothes and Gilbert wonders how he can't tell that if his chin were just a little slimmer he would be mistaken for a housewife. The way that he pushes those glasses up on his nose with two fingers, thinking it makes him look smart, which it does. The way that he blushes at the slightest thing. The way he sways to the sounds of the piano, and _damn_, is he beautiful when he loses himself in the music.

_Damn_.

-4-

Who defines good or evil?

Gilbert finds he has no answer for that one. He used to be religious- he started out as the Teutonic Knights, after all- but despite vestigial beliefs that nudge him from the back of his mind occasionally, he has cast it aside. So if he has no God to believe in for the setting of right and wrong, who is there?

He finally settles on that the majority decides, but something about that answer leaves him feeling unsatisfied.

-5-

What is true strength?

Gilbert wants desperately to give his typical insensitive answer, that his awesome is more than enough to prove that he's the strongest person EVAR!, but these questions are supposed to make him seem deep, and something about being the strongest person EVAR! doesn't feel deep at all. After several moments in thought, he determines that there are types of strength. He lets himself mull over the notion, chin in hand for a while.

He himself is undeniably awesome, that's a fact of life, and he's awesomely strong too. Roddy is weak, prissy, a princess in every sense of the word other than being female- and even that is sometimes debatable. His limbs are flimsy, he wouldn't win an arm wrestling match against an eight year old, he winds up looking like a beet at the mere mention of 'vulgar' subjects, and he's just the opposite of what you would think of as strong.

But- and Gilbert pushes away this thought almost as soon as it occurs to him -perhaps Roddy is strong in his own way.

-6-

Isn't one person's terrorist another person's freedom fighter?

That question makes him shiver, because it's true. It's true, but it shouldn't be.

It calls to mind the war, the wall that separated him from Ludwig for years, the death and the helpless, sickened expression on his brother's face as the fighting began. Every death hurt him, because, Jewish or otherwise, German people were German people, and they were Ludwig's people. Many years afterward Ludwig talked to him about it, and the pain in his voice made Prussia want to smash Hitler where it hurt, pummel him until he was dead all over again. Hitler was a terrorist, and what makes Gilbert feel ill now is that so many of Ludwig's people had thought him to be a freedom fighter.

The question is correct. But that doesn't mean that the terrorist is right.

-7-

What will happen at the end of the world?

Gilbert feels strangely quiet, reading that one. Quiet inside, strange, a nostalgic pang.

What will happen at the end of the world?

Gilbert is no fool. He knows that he should have vanished when his country dissolved. He_ knows_ that, but somehow he's still here, still able to pester Specs, to crash in his brother's basement, to go out drinking with Fran and Toni and get in heaps of trouble. He shouldn't be here, but he is. And he knows why.

He can feel every death from the war as if it were his own, every scream and call for help, and he would bet that he can remember them better than Germany himself. He can feel every punch thrown, every kick to the ribs, every hacking cough, every shuddering breath as air vanished from poisoned lungs. Sharp shouts grind on his ears, missile impacts shake the ground on which he walks, he can feel metal slugs embedding themselves in his brain, shot in mercilessly by officers who laugh above him. His stomach clenches with hunger, his limbs ache, his heart feels weak, pattering out a limp, irregular beat.

He has to constantly lock it all away in the back of his mind, and he can do it during the day. He can store up the memories in a little box, and function as if there is nothing pressing down on him. At night, though, he lets them out willingly, sifts through each horror like an old friend, and willingly shoulders the burden.

Gilbert Beilschmidt is no longer Prussia. He hasn't been for a long while.

He is the memory of World War II.

As long as the world recalls the horrors that befell the Earth at Hitler's hands, Gilbert will exist. As long as they look back and see all that happened, remember it, recall with even momentary interest the events that took place, he will live.

But he is no fool.

Someday, whether it is in fifty years or fifty thousand, people will forget him. Germany's mistakes will be covered up by new ones, Gilbert's slice of history lost to time, sacrificed to human nature. And he will disappear.

What will happen at the end of the world?

He doubts he will be there to see it.

-8-

What is beauty?

In the eye of the beholder, he answers. Because to him there is nothing more beautiful in the world than those few moments when Ludwig and Roddy and himself can all be civil and just _enjoy_ each other's company, when Austria bakes something sweet and they're all talking and bickering, but it's a teasing sort of bickering, and then they sit down and they continue that argument as long as they can take it. There is nothing more beautiful than when they can sit down and talk and be a family, like they haven't been in so long.

Then there's Roddy, and he's a kind of beauty all his own, a poise and a grace that Gilbert himself could never hope for. When he plays the piano, when he thinks that Prussia isn't watching and really lets himself feel the music, when he closes his eyes and those slim fingers dance across the keys, Gilbert can't breathe. And some days, when Roddy is in a good mood, he'll do it even when Gilbert is there, sitting in a chair right next to the piano, and it's a special chair reserved just for him and Gilbird. On those days Roddy will sometimes finish a song and look over at Gilbert, and those eyes will just swallow him up in a violet sea.

Roddy is beautiful. And strangely enough, Gilbert doesn't mind thinking so anymore.

-9-

What is infinity?

It doesn't exist. Gilbert leaves it at that.

Or at least he would have if one last thought hadn't weaseled its way out- If it does, I want to spend it with my family. But that's stupid, because he doesn't have a proper family. Right?

-10-

Where is the line between insanity and creativity?

He makes a face. As far as he is concerned, insanity is just as relative as sanity, so the line doesn't really exist. If it does, though, it must be very lenient, because he himself is plenty creative, and yet many of his plots have gotten him many a strange glance, most of which compliments of Roddy.

The rest of the world certainly believes him to be a bit touched in the head- and so what if he is? The rest of them are too. All you need is to watch a meeting and you'd agree.

Where is the line between insanity and creativity?

The world is insane, so, really, there is none.

-11-

What one piece of advice would you offer to a newborn infant?

'Don't push away those you love.' That was what he had said to West, right after he had finished introducing himself as big brother to the little amnesiac child of a country, beaten and bruised still from his previous life. Gilbert had thought he'd said it for Feli's sake, but now he realizes that maybe he said it for his own as well.

A bitter laugh escapes him. 'Don't push away those you love.' He is such a hypocrite. What would West think if he knew just how much-

No. Best not think like that, because someday soon Roddy will see the Something. Then Gilbert will stop pushing. But only then.

He tells himself that he's not actually a coward.

-12-

How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?

He laughs again. It's funny.

-13-

To what degree have you actually controlled the course your life has taken?

'Not much,' Gilbert mutters. It's at once both a truth and a lie. Yes, his government has held sway over him for much of his time in this world. Yes, his people were always his will, as his memories are now. Yes, he has been held back by others, by himself, by the rest of the world. He has been held in place by duty, pinned down by his borders.

But he is also himself. He has enough of his own emotions, separate from the mentality of a nation, enough of his own thoughts to say that he truly has a personality outside of what his people set for him. He can walk, and talk, and make at least some decisions independently. He is enough of a person to feel. To love.

Where does the nation end and the man begin?

-14-

Would you rather be a worried genius or a joyful simpleton?

Gilbert would much rather be stupid and happy than smart and frazzly. Intelligence is, in his opinion, almost as relative as sanity. The really stupid people never know how stupid they are, unless they get smart and the eagle eye of hindsight lives up to its name. He also doesn't want to end up like Ludwig, stressing over schedules and logistics, though that's probably just a Luddy thing. If he's dumb enough to pull Feli's curl repeatedly, cluelessly, then he's probably as stupid as anyone.

And Roddy is smart. Gilbert grudgingly admits it. He's smart as anyone, probably smarter, but he's just as clueless as Ludwig sometimes. Honestly! And when he's not being clueless, he's being a prude, which Gilbert somehow finds simultaneously adorable and irritating. If being smart means being so straitlaced as the priss, Gilbert would take the braindead option, thanks. A life of intelligent depravity doesn't appeal to him in the slightest.

-15-

Would you rather lose all your old memories or never be able to make new ones?

He barely even has to think about it. The wars and scars of his past are nearly worthless to him, nothing but a source of mental anguish. There is very little that he would like to hold onto. Not being able to move on from those wounds would be a terrible thing.

Of course, there are plenty of exceptions, lights to drive away the dark, memories that he is less willing to forfeit. Other than Fritz, though, the sources of the good memories are mostly alive- Ludwig, Francis, Antonio, Roderich. If the people who he was happy with are here, he can be happy again. He's sure of it. If he's become friends with them already, it'll happen over, and if he has, against everything he has ever wanted, fallen in love with them, he won't be able to stop himself the next time around.

Losing memories would be unfortunate, yes, but Gilbert lives and loves in the present. He would be okay.

-16-

At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive?

He thinks. Living in the present (aside from, of course, his daily remembrances), while being a great way to move through existence with a minimal amount of worry, does not lend itself overly well to specific personal hindsight. While he remembers with vivid clarity the important moments and people, both the little things like their habits and preferences (the way they smile, the way they laugh, the faces they make, the way Roddy gently sifts through his music like every sheet of paper is an old friend-) and their overall personalities, he has definite trouble calling back his own emotions and experiences from situations outside of war.

It takes a while, longer than he would probably like to admit (his computer screen darkens multiple times in anticipation of sleep mode) but he finally hits upon the recent world meeting. The actual conference in itself was nothing out of the ordinary, just a lot of arguing and overall chaos, and Gilbert wasn't really supposed to be there, but it had been hosted in Germany. After the anarchy of modern international relations had relocated itself to whatever miserable hotel was designated to accommodate it this time, Ludwig held a mini-meeting back at his own house. He only invited Roddy, Gilbert, and Feli, which made it, aside from a bit of chatter and repeated exclamations of 'Veh~!' a very quiet setup compared to the madness of the day.

They talked, and laughed, had dinner, and then talked some more. It was good to be back with them, really good. Gilbert's recent time had been spent mostly blogging and hitting the town with Fran and Toni, and he hadn't had much contact with Luddy outside of passing greetings that were inevitable when sharing a house. Feli had been vacationing with Kiku, managing once again to convert the usually uptight man into a pasta-worshipping lunatic (the expressions on his typically stoic face had been so funny that Gilbert was sorely disappointed when he returned to normal), and Roddy had been caught up in a string of private meetings for his personal alliances. To sit down and relax, to enjoy company, had almost become alien to them.

Well, not to Feliciano. But he didn't count.

Sitting at the kitchen table, teasing the ice princess and cheating at cards, that was when he loved living. That was when he didn't care about his memories, or his past, or even the deep questions. That was when he loved that his dissolution hadn't killed him, and when he gave silent thanks to whatever magical/spiritual/just plain awesome entity had motivated Roddy to sit so close.

Then he won again at Feli-proof poker (which uses chocolate chips as bets and stakes, because regular chips bore him and strip poker- well, it's Feli.) and something in his brain must have gone funny at the victory, because without realizing it he grabbed Specs's hand under the table. Roddy stiffened, and Gilbert almost pulled away, but then he relaxed and Gilbert wanted to grin like a madman, because it was okay.

It was_ okay_.

They didn't break contact unless they needed a hand, and even then it was always returned as soon as the need was finished. That was when Gilbert felt alive, sitting there with their fingers intertwined. He never wanted to let go.

-17-

If you knew that everyone you knew would die tomorrow, who would you visit today?

He runs through the mental list, and comes up with just about the entire world, mostly because it sounds like it would be fun to rub his awesomeness in the faces of those he didn't like. Well, he could do that, but it could be achieved by phone, or by message, or by television if need be. Who would he visit in person?

Francis and Antonio. They were great friends, they more than deserved a personal farewell.

Elizaveta. She may not be the closest of his friends, but she's still there for him, even if he does get a little bit grumpy when reminded that she and Roddy used to be married. And, being the one who figured out that she was a girl, he feels just a little bit obligated to keep contact. They used to be pretty close, and he would honor that.

Ludwig. And Feli, for good measure, because nowadays they were practically a package deal. Maybe Kiku too.

Roddy.

He tries to think of what he would say, and draws a blank for all of them but one.

-18-

If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make one?

Ah, the innate fear of failure. Gilbert, much as he hates to admit, has it himself. It comes with living. It's like any fear- you don't know why you're afraid. There's no reason to be. You just are.

It's like something England said once. It was in reference to a show that Gilbert has never seen and likely never will see, and he said it to Kiku in a very complicated and metaphorical conversation, but Gilbert's powers of eavesdropping are without equal, and even without the show it makes some sense.

'I'm not afraid of the dark,' he said, 'I'm afraid of the Vashta Nerada that live in the dark.'

I'm not afraid of making a mistake, Gilbert thinks, I'm afraid of what making it may cost me.

-19-

When was the last time you noticed yourself breathing?

Every day since the dissolution.

-20-

What would you do differently if you knew no one would judge you?

Well, that's hardly a fair question, Gilbert thinks sulkily. We all know the answer to that, don't we? People would love and not be so skittish about it. Crushes would be no big deal, nothing to keep secret. Gossip wouldn't exist. Actually, without judging, the world would be a much better place.

Not that he didn't know that already, because it's judgement that keeps him so afraid of the Something.

-21-

Which is worse, failing or never trying?

Failing, because then you'll know that you weren't good enough. Never trying isn't cowardice. It's strategy. Gilbert is good at strategy. That's why he's good at war. And not trying is ignorance. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Retreat isn't cowardice. It's _strategy._

-22-

If not now, then when?

When Roddy sees.

Gilbert pushes away from the computer, spinning a bit in his chair. Spinny chairs are fun. He fiddles with the height and pretends that he's not avoiding the point of the question.

When Roddy sees. Then he'll speak. Then he'll say every word that he's been holding back for the last who-knows-how-many years. Then he'll admit what the Something really is, both to Roddy and to himself. That's when he'll stop, and stand, and talk again.

That's when he'll say three words, words that have burned below his consciousness for just as many years as he's felt the Something, and that's when he'll be free.

For now, though, he asks deep questions, and thinks about love. Because when you're completely hopeless, what else is there to do?

_Owari_

Feel free to offer improvements, comments, or just whatever comes to mind. Feedback is love~.

-River

1 What is sanity?

2 What makes a good friend?

3 What makes you, you?

4 Who defines good or evil?

5 What is true strength?

6 Isn't one person's terrorist another person's freedom fighter?

7 What will happen at the end of the world?

8 What is beauty?

9 What is infinity?

10 What is the line between insanity and creativity?

11 What one piece of advice would you offer to a newborn infant?

12 How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?

13 To what degree have you actually controlled the course your life has taken?

14 Would you rather be a worried genius or a joyful simpleton?

15 Would you rather lose all your old memories or never be able to make new ones?

16 At what time in your recent past have you felt most passionate and alive?

17 If you knew that everyone you knew would die tomorrow, who would you visit today?

18 If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make one?

19 When was the last time you noticed yourself breathing?

20 What would you do differently if you knew no one would judge you?

21 Which is worse, failing or never trying?

22 If not now, then when?


End file.
